Ulric the Jarl: A Story of the Penitent Thief

by William O. Stoddard

No word spoke Lysias to the important man when he came, but the subofficer made the announcement and the parcel from Pontius the Spearman was placed in the right hands.

"O messenger," he said, "dismount. Thy beast is worn out. So art thou. He will be kept for thee in the stables of the procurator. Thou, too, wilt have refreshment. Rest thee and be ready when thy return message shall be prepared."

Here ended for the present the dangerous responsibilities of Lysias, but in no manner had he yet escaped from the grip which had been put upon him. The lodgings to which he was speedily conducted were as a jail of secure detention and from them he might not think of going forth, lest evil should befall him. He might but eat and sleep while his next duties were in course of preparation. Nevertheless rest was sweet, and his dreams were free to wander where they would, seeking a fair face and welcoming eyes which might not now be far away.

Early upon the morrow he was summoned to come forth, and he was led to the Damascus gate without having had speech with any save with soldiers who were as his jailers. Here a saddled horse of Arabia awaited him and also a high official, whom he knew not, and the captain of the gate, whom he had already seen.

"Hear thou with care, O messenger," said the latter, sternly, handing to him sealed parchments. "This first to the procurator, from me. These from the high priest and from the captain of the temple. I give thee, also, a spoken message, which may not be written, for thee to deliver and then to forget; for thou art of the household of the procurator, and he trusteth thee. Were another to hear these words, lost were his head and thine. Slain is the secret messenger of Herod, and he went not to Cæsar. Caius of Thessalonica is in Galilee watching Julius, the subtle, who plotteth, also, with Herod and with Herod Antipas. Caius may die there, or ere he returneth, but he is trustworthy. Well were it that the procurator should now leave his inspection of the garrisons and of Samaria until a better day and that he should now return to Jerusalem. Go!"

Words in reply or questioning might not be spoken. Lysias sprang upon the Arabian horse, the letters being hidden in his bosom. Away he rode down into the valley of the Kidron, thinking within himself: "Great is the peril to him who carrieth the secrets of rulers. Sure is my death if I do not this errand well, and yet the very doing of it may bring a sword upon me. And now I am indeed of the household of Pontius, wherein is hidden my Sapphira. Surely Venus and Juno are with me, and Mercurius himself hath given me this fleet stallion to ride. He goeth like the wind."

The remainder of that day went by, and the night also came and went. Not any did the messenger have speech with but seemed ready to speed him and glad to see him go from them, as if in having met him might bide a future peril. It was only in the forenoon of the next day, however, that his Arabian steed was halted in the middle of the northward highway, and before him in a gilded chariot sat Pontius, the procurator, reading slowly and thoughtfully the letters delivered to him by the Greek.

"Thou hast done well," he said. "Thou art a speedy messenger. Was there aught else?"